


a song of sun and stars

by starlightwalking



Series: Lost Lays of the Legendarium [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Legends and Lore, Magical Songs, My Slashy Valentine 2021, Post-Canon, Quenya Names, Romantic Fluff, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Arwen, Éowyn, and a night beneath the stars.
Relationships: Arien/Ilmarë, Arwen Undómiel/Éowyn
Series: Lost Lays of the Legendarium [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1308935
Comments: 18
Kudos: 24
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	a song of sun and stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SatiricalDraperies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatiricalDraperies/gifts).



> Happy Slashy Valentine’s, SatiricalDraperies!! I’m quite proud that I managed to combine your requested Silm ship and one of your requested LotR ships, though I confess I’m disappointed in myself for not managing to include Tauriel, who is one of my all-time favs :’( Perhaps next time!
> 
> A major shoutout to JazTheBard for the inspired connection between Éowyn and the Sun, and also for their headcanon around Arwen’s Choice. And thanks for helping me brainstorm, too! Check out Jaz’s fics (especially [Jailbird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222621), from which I borrowed Éowyn’s Sun theme) for some more wonderful LOTR/Silm crossover fic :)
> 
> Apologies for the cheesy YA-style title.
> 
> Name translations in the end notes.
> 
> ETA: the wonderful [@drawingmaedhros](http://drawingmaedhros.tumblr.com/) made [some absolutely STUNNING art](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/644139572280868864/ahhhh-this-is-gorgeous-thank-you-so-much-i-love) of this fic!! thank you so much!!

“Look! A shooting star!”

With some reluctance, Arwen turned away from Éowyn’s lovely face to gaze into the wondrous sky. Indeed, a star fell from the heavens, trailing streaks of light behind it, disappearing as fast as it shone.

“My people say the stars were made in a great battle of the Powers,” Éowyn murmured, her breath sweet on Arwen’s cheek. “That Esteorra, the All-Queen, took the Dark Lord Dunnfréa’s tears of rage and scattered them across the sky. And each time a star falls, that’s a tear landing back on Earth, watering the slumbering corpse of the Dark One, letting the Earth-mother turn darkness to life.”

Arwen smiled. It was a lovely tale, though the elves told it differently, and had known the Powers personally. Yes, there had been a war, and a Queen of the Stars, and the Earth-mother wrought good from the Dark Lord’s evil—but Morgoth was Void, not sleeping, and Elbereth’s stars had never been tainted by his wrath.

Éowyn sighed, resting her head on Arwen’s shoulder. “It is just a story, though,” she said. “I am sure your people know the truth.”

“Perhaps,” Arwen said vaguely, remembering that her father had met Eönwë and Ilmarë himself, and now dwelt far in the West where Manwë and Varda yet ruled. But _she_ had only ever known the stories, and like Éowyn, she knew not the full truth of all legend and lore.

“You ought to know,” Éowyn teased. “You’re named for the Evening Star, Undómiel my Queen.” She rolled over on top of Arwen, startling a laugh from her, quickly kissing away any demure protests of her own station.

“The Evening Star is no star,” Arwen said breathlessly when her lover let her go. “It is a jewel—on the brow of my grandfather—in his ship Vingilot that sails the sky—”

Éowyn fell over laughing. “I’m sorry,” she hiccuped, “but every time I hear the story it sounds more ridiculous!”

“Well, what do _your_ people say of the Evening Star?” Arwen challenged.

Éowyn hummed. “Ah, I don’t know. I remember a story from my childhood, of the All-Queen’s handmaiden who hung it in the sky so that the Sun may have company as she set, but I think it was just a bedtime story, not a serious legend.”

Arwen smiled, charmed by the thought. “You know the story of the Sun and the Moon, do you not?”

“About your grandmother being older than them?”

“In part,” Arwen said.

“Your grandfather is a star, your grandmother is older than the Sun—” Éowyn shook her head. “I can scarcely believe I was once intimidated by you elves and your ageless beauty. Now you seem just as impractical and foolish as we Men!”

Arwen didn’t bother getting into the tangled web that was her family tree, even without considering her father’s foster-kidnappers; Éowyn would demand to hear the whole story, but she was more interested in the Rohirrim’s legends on this night.

“My grandmother, Lady Galadriel, knew the Sun-maiden before she bore the fiery fruit that lights our world,” Arwen said softly. “Her name is Arien, and she tended the Two Trees with Vána, the Vala of spring—your Earth-Mother’s sister.”

“You speak with such certainty,” Éowyn said. “It is always a wonder, to hear it.”

“And my father met Ilmarë, handmaid of Varda Star-queen,” Arwen continued. “The Eldar woke beneath the stars. Ilmarë helped place them there—perhaps it is she who sent our shooting star tonight.”

“But not the Evening Star?” Éowyn was not good at hiding her emotions; Arwen could feel her disappointment that her childhood story was not true.

“Not that one,” Arwen admitted. “But—well, I have as much proof for this story as you do that of the Dark Lord’s tears, but I have heard a tale of Arien and Ilmarë. Indeed, I believe that Ilmarë cares that the Sun not be lonely.”

“Oh?” Éowyn asked, perking up. “Tell me, love, will you?”

Arwen closed her eyes for a moment, doing her best to remember the tale, and the tune her father had put it to. When she was sure she had the right of it, she sat up, took Éowyn’s hand, and began to sing.

> _In Elder Days when elves were young  
>  _ _And Valar’s praises yet were sung,  
>  _ _The world was calm, for Morgoth slept,  
>  _ _And for an age the peace was kept._

Arwen was no great minstrel of old, but no elleth raised in Imladris was unlearned in music. Lord Elrond had been raised by the greatest bard in Middle-earth, and was a descendant of Lúthien also, and his daughter was well-versed in the practice of conjuring visions out of song.

As she sang, images appeared around her, ethereal and glimmering with light, depicting what she imagined the Two Trees must have been like in their glory. She had known singers whose music transported one to another realm, so realistic were they, but her power was lesser. Still, Éowyn gazed raptly at the dancing lights, utterly enchanted by Arwen’s music.

> _But then the Light we all held dear  
>  _ _Was vanquished, and our hearts knew fear,  
>  _ _In mourning then our people fled  
>  _ _To hither shores, where blood was shed._

Arwen knew the Noldolantë well; after all, her father’s foster-father had composed it. This was not one of his works, but it borrowed imagery from that great lay. The gleam of the Two Trees was snuffed out, replaced by a sudden darkness, in which small fires were lit, growing to a consuming blaze. The burning of the ships, she thought, or else the fall of Fëanor; the visions she sang into being were not quite clear enough to tell.

> _A darkness lingered o’er the skies  
>  _ _But Ainur hearkened to our cries:  
>  _ _Despite our faithlessness, their love  
>  _ _Returned the light to heav’n above._
> 
> _The Sun! The Moon! These new lights shone  
>  _ _To prove to us we’re not alone,  
>  _ _To prove that soon the day should come,  
>  _ _And ne’er again would light succumb._

And now light burst forth again, dispelling the darkness, Laurelin’s fruit and Telperion’s flower spinning around one another until they shone so bright their forms became indistinct. The light of the conjured Sun gleamed in Éowyn’s eyes, and in that moment she was so beautiful Arwen faltered, overwhelmed. But the song continued, and for Éowyn to remain so enraptured, she needed to keep singing.

> _Tilion, the son of horns,  
>  _ _Guides wayward Vása, flow’r that mourns  
>  _ _Its father’s end, Telperion,  
>  _ _And lost in love, pursues the Sun._

Now the Sun rose in the sky, outshining its brother the Moon, and though Tilion chased it around all Arda it halted for nothing.

> _Arien, o maiden bright,  
>  _ _Turns the world to day from night,  
>  _ _Her fiery rays repel the Dark  
>  _ _And from her beauty hope doth spark._

Arwen cleared her throat, the images fading in their glory. “That’s the common version of the song,” she explained. “But the one my father sang had a few more verses...”

Éowyn beamed, brighter than Arien herself, and with the warmth of her love lifting her heart, Arwen continued:

> _Though loved by wily Tilion,  
>  _ _Not by the Moon was her heart won.  
>  _ _For though she shines without a fear,  
>  _ _Loneliness crept ever near._

The Moon dissipated into blackness, and Night once more threatened to overtake the vision. Upon her chariot, Arien cried out soundlessly.

> _Arien, once Vána’s maid,  
>  _ _Raised up her voice, and loudly prayed  
>  _ _To Varda, her mistress now apart,  
>  _ _And pity turned her Vala’s heart._
> 
> _Across the skies Ilmarë flew  
>  _ _And hung the stars in places new  
>  _ _To keep the Sun in company  
>  _ _That she might never lonely be._

Through the darkness gleamed white stars, and a constellation coalesced into the brilliant form of a maiden. This was Ilmarë, Varda’s handmaiden, whose very name was Starlight, and to lift Arien’s spirits she scattered stars about the horizon.

> _For this bold Arien was glad,  
>  _ _And praised Ilmarë, no longer sad.  
>  _ _Though Varda’s will be done, indeed,  
>  _ _By Starlight’s labor she was freed._
> 
> _In love and hope the two were bound_  
>  _And in each other joy was found.  
>  _ _When Ilmarë sweet and Arien bright  
>  _ _Mingle in love, day turns to night._

Now at last Ilmarë and Arien reached for one another, joining in a joyous embrace, the stars gleaming about them. Arwen’s voice trailed off, and she watched the light shimmer and dissipate as her power lessened

“That’s beautiful,” Éowyn said softly, her eyes aglow as the light of Arwen’s song faded away. “Perhaps I can leave the Evening Star for your grandfather, then, if that song is true.”

“Mm,” Arwen murmured, kissing her. “If you think about it, we are much like the Maiar in the song.”

“Oh?” Éowyn giggled. “I can’t tell if this is blasphemy or not. Though I suppose I care little for what I should and should not do.”

Arwen laughed merrily. “As you were fated, so I chose,” she said. “We both will take the mortal path, and never meet the Valar in Aman to be judged for our proud words.”

“Then how are we like Arien and Ilmarë?” Éowyn asked. “Neither of us guides the Chariot of the Sun, nor hangs the stars in the sky.”

“But I am Undómiel, the Evening Star,” Arwen explained. “Not literally—but of course you would love Gil-Estel, dear Éowyn, for you love me also.”

Éowyn blushed. “I am not the Sun,” she protested.

“You are my Sun,” Arwen professed, and titled Éowyn’s face to the East, where dawn’s light had begun to creep over the horizon, promising a beautiful day to come. “And you rode to the aid of Gondor, my kindred, with the rising sun.” She caressed her lover’s face gently. “Ñaltárë, I name you, the radiant dawn, for as Arien brings hope to the world, so do you bring hope to me.”

“Arwen,” Éowyn gasped, and kissed her soundly. Arwen tangled her fingers in her hair, loving the feel of Éowyn’s lips, how right they were together. She had known from a young age what her Choice would be, but had waited for the right time to make it. Now that she had, her heart rejoiced, for to spend her days in the company of Éowyn and the other mortals she loved was well worth the cost.

“My Ñaltárë,” she whispered, caressing Éowyn’s face. “My ancestors woke beneath the stars, but though I bear their name, it is the Sun that has captured my heart. You are the Sun, my love, whose foremothers woke as Arien first smiled upon Arda, and to your light I will ever be drawn.”

“Dunnfréa’s darkness is nothing in the face of Esteorra’s light,” Éowyn murmured. “Our legends may not be the same, but I find beauty in your elvish song, and I hope you find wonder in my Mannish lore.”

“I am a Woman, now,” Arwen said. “Perhaps not one of your people, but I am mortal nonetheless. I find great wonder in you and your stories both—and I hope you will tell me more of your legends, someday.”

“I will,” Éowyn promised, her lovely face haloed by the rising dawn. “But on this morning, my lovely star, I wish only for your company, and your lips on mine.”

“That can be arranged,” Arwen laughed, and let her lover shine.

**Author's Note:**

> Ñaltárë = “radiant dawn” (Quenya)
> 
> The Rohirric names were crafted from Old English, using Béma (Oromë’s Rohirric name) as an example.  
> Esteorra = Varda, “graceful star,” from OE _est_ “grace” and _steorra_ “star”  
> Dunnfréa = Melkor, “dark lord,” from OE _dunn_ “dark” and _fréa_ “lord”
> 
> I came up with a few other names, but they didn’t make it into the story, which I think is for the best tbh.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


End file.
